This is a song about "Wick3d records"

I'm rapping for royal records

We come through throbbing like thunder storms

And the headrest had to have about eight thorns

Bring back record sales, i sail while i break records

Check my records, i killed every single fucking objector!

Wit’ some killers and everybody know who we are

Nigga, i'm a samurai, cut your skinny ass in half

You act like you sell records kid, you're makin me laugh

My records sell, yes sir

Wale, spitta, 9th wonder

And ask to see his tax records, they'll make you bound to walk,

Then all i really want is for her to get on top

Me lay down tracks. so take a step back and look in the mirror then maybe you will

Because i'm weary of seeing all these rappers spitting on records with no skill

Im like a devil rebel to the cocky jockey, you see me grindin mining all the gold

Didn't even care whether it's summer or blistering cold , platinum records were getting sold